Page 64 of What The Hex (The Family Spells)
“I made the choice to sleep with you out of my own free will. Not because I was afraid. Just because I wanted to. I wanted you.” Grace stood up, swallowing hard, as if she wasn’t sure she could handle sitting and listening to the words falling from my mouth like stars. “I made the choice to leave that wedding and come to you out of my own free will. Just like I’m making the choice to raise my own kid, to stay.” I swallowed and even though there was no small amount of anxiety inside of me, I wasn’t afraid.
“Soulmates … are linked by the past, Hex. People who fell in love more than once. Over and over again. Shared memories and lives of romance on repeat. Eventually, a bond forms. We have that bond. I’m glad you’re staying, Hex. I’m … happy.” She started to move away, and I stood up, reaching out to grab her wrist.
She went still, and the air between us became hot, almost sticky with need.
“Grace.” I moved forward, pushing her chair out of the way with my leg, until I was standing with my front to her back. She was trembling slightly as I reached up and put my hands on her hips. I leaned in close and shut my eyes, breathing deep.
I could smell the faintest whiff of old pumpkins from the compost pile, that last sweet goodbye before autumn became winter. There was a combined melee of scent from the garden, rosemary and lilac, peppermint and ginger, basil and thyme. And then there was Grace, this feminine kiss of crushed herbs, old books, and magic, the natural scents of witch.
Underneath it all, I could smell this gentle sweetness, like unripe fruit that isn’t quite ready to be plucked from the tree. That was the pregnancy. Beyond that, more of the spicy witch scent … and a hint of cinnamon and sandalwood.
I groaned against the side of her neck. Couldn’t help it. I was smelling my scent mixed with hers, and it was hitting me in so many places at once.
“I’m afraid, too,” Grace said quietly, turning to look at me. I ended up gazing down into her eyes and feeling my palms sweat, my pulse thunder, my cock straining against the confines of my borrowed joggers. “I don’t know what I think about this Witch Queen prophecy, but I do know that your family isn’t going to let you go so easily. You’re not going to be safe unless you’re by our sides.”
“Are you telling me you don’t want me to leave you alone, no matter what?” I interpreted, and her brows went up. Grace wetted her lips with her pretty tongue, and I ended up lifting my hands and placing them on her hips.
She exhaled and returned her gaze to mine.
My lids felt heavy, so I let them droop, moving my mouth to slant across hers. She tasted as good as she smelled, better even, since to taste her, I had to touch her. And that’s all I wanted to do in that moment, touch her, feel her. I didn’t even have to fuck her—although that’d be a bonus—but I needed to press my hands to her hips, swirl my tongue against hers, drink her in.
“Is that what you’re saying?” I repeated, a smile curving across my mouth. It was still pressed to Graceley’s; she was panting, lifting one palm up and sliding her fingers over my shoulder. I adjusted my hands to either side of her throat, kissing her deeply, drawing her into me.
She tilted her head even further back so that I could delve deeper with my tongue, tasting her in a way that I hadn’t allowed myself to before. When she’d leaned in to kiss me at the pumpkin patch, it’d felt like my very first kiss, something soft and hesitant, given freely and without restraint.
This was far more carnal than that, the ardency and urgency we’d felt at her shop that day traveling through the both of us, making that soulmate connection feel as physical as it was ethereal.
Also, now … I wasn’t holding back.
What was the point?
Leaving here meant summoning, imprisonment, and marriage. Possibly death. Staying here gave me a chance to be a father and to let myself fall into the fantasy I’d been entertaining since I met this woman.
A fantasy where she was mine. And even if she couldn’t just be mine and mine alone, that was enough. In this moment, under the stars, with my body weak from the spell, this was more than enough.
There would be positives, too, right? I mean, Spectre did make me a sandwich …
I ignored all of that, letting myself be the consort to Grace’s witch, masculine and feminine energy swirling together in a perfect storm. Magic teased my lips as I kissed her, hot and fragrant and heady. My power liked her power; our magic was sympathetic to one another, meaning we could use and borrow each other’s freely.
